


Flesh, Blood, and a Cup of Hot Chocolate

by TheSigyn



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Sarah Jane Adventures
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-04
Updated: 2010-03-04
Packaged: 2018-04-13 14:06:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4524885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSigyn/pseuds/TheSigyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I put out the sun, and people die. I draw down the moon and people die. I am born and people die. What am I?”<br/>“You’re Luke Smith. You are my son."<br/>Sarah Jane has never been good at saying how she feels. When Luke has a reaction after nearly drawing down the moon, she'll have to learn, or possibly lose him forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flesh, Blood, and a Cup of Hot Chocolate

  
The fiery lights kept falling through the sky. Usually, after one of the more devastating adventures in alien technology, the little team on Bannerman Road were universally happy. Something about the adrenaline rush and the endorphins that were released with the knowledge that you had just done something wildly important, and the world was a better or safer place for it.   
  
But this time, as Sarah Jane and Maria and Clyde and Maria’s dad all huddled in the back garden with Luke, Sarah Jane felt something was wrong. Luke was not all smiles this time. Finally, without making a fuss about it, Sarah Jane told everyone it was time to get on home, and she brought Luke inside. “Would you like some hot chocolate?” she asked once they got into the kitchen. She wasn’t quite sure how say she was worried.   
  
Luke shook his head. “No,” he said. “I think I should go to bed.”   
  
Sarah Jane frowned. “Are you all right?” she asked.  
  
“Yeah, I’m fine, Mum. I’m just getting a headache.”   
  
Sarah Jane had never known Luke to complain of headaches before. He hadn’t been ill a day, in fact, and the few times he’d been bruised or hurt he’d recovered with the same speed as any typical teenage boy. That he was in pain now was something Sarah Jane didn’t know how to cope with.   
  
They were never the most affectionate of families. Luke didn’t know how, and truth to tell, Sarah Jane didn’t either. She’d never had a normal family life. Her Aunt Lavinia had been loving, but eccentric, and was not what anyone would call cuddly. Sarah Jane had learned to live without comforting from the age of six. She was self-reliant and adaptable — and distant. Ever since her best friend died when she was young she had tried to keep her heart entirely to herself.   
  
Until she met the Doctor no one had ever been affectionate toward her in any way she would accept. But something about his iron-grey wisdom, him calling her “my dear” and the way he’d take her arm and show her the way out had touched her. Until finally, after his regeneration, they had grown more close than she could have believed possible. But even then the Doctor was only affectionate in spates; almost never in words, only sometimes in actions, and their relationship was mostly good-natured teasing and quiet acceptance.   
  
She didn’t tease Luke, because he had a tendency to take everything literally, and his acceptance was a given, as he had no comparison. As far as Luke had known, every mother was like his. He knew now a bit more about the world, but Sarah Jane was still his measure of normalcy. So even though he called her “Mum” and she acknowledged that she loved him... she wasn’t sure how to show it. Let alone how to say it.   
  
“You’ve had quite a day,” Sarah Jane said, trying to figure out if she should give him a hug. “You go on to bed. I’ll clean up and come check on you.”   
  
“I’m fine, Mum,” Luke said again, but he didn’t protest. “Goodnight.” He walked slowly upstairs.   
  
Sarah Jane cleaned up the supper dishes. She wanted to give Luke enough time to dress before she looked in on him, so she tiptoed upstairs to check on Mr. Smith. He had been still on standby rebooting the last time she checked on him. She opened the door to the attic and saw the “standby” sign was no longer brooding on the screen.   
  
“Hello, Sarah Jane,” Mr. Smith said in his smooth mechanical voice. “You have neglected to deactivate me.”   
  
“You were rebooting,” Sarah Jane said.   
  
“Yes.” The computer creature sounded uncertain. “Sarah Jane? My records are scrambled. May I ask you some questions?”   
  
Sarah Jane swallowed. “I suppose so.”   
  
“Thank you, Sarah Jane. My direct memory has been erased. All I have remaining are data records, and my primary function. Protect Earth. Is this correct?”   
  
“Yes, Mr. Smith.”   
  
“Sarah Jane. You assist me in protecting the Earth. Is this correct?”  
  
“You assist me, more often,” Sarah Jane said. “But I’d have a very difficult time without you.”   
  
“Thank you, Sarah Jane. That was a compliment.”   
  
Sarah Jane raised her eyebrows. That was a more personal statement than Sarah Jane had ever received from this crystalline computer creature. “What do you remember?”   
  
“Very little. I am disturbed. You have a son. Is this correct?”   
  
“Yes. Luke.”   
  
“Luke Smith. There is a gap in my data banks regarding Luke Smith.”   
  
“Don’t worry about it,” Sarah Jane said quickly. “Protect the Earth.”   
  
“Yes, Sarah Jane. But as our goals are the same, I am also to protect you and Luke.”   
  
“I suppose that’s true,” Sarah Jane said.   
  
“I am worried about Luke,” Mr. Smith said.   
  
Sarah Jane almost jumped. She was used to K-9, who had awareness and sentience and even a sense of humor, but no actual emotion. Mr. Smith was clearly sentient, but on his own had none of the five senses like a human being. His awareness was contingent upon his interaction with whatever was around him that he could link to. He had, as far as she’d seen, no sense of humor. The emotional statement was jarring. “I didn’t know you had emotions.”   
  
“I have always had emotion,” Mr. Smith said in his entirely emotionless voice. “And I am worried about Luke. But I have no memory of Luke. I have no memory of you. Other than a basic data file of name and bio-identity, I have no memory of any specific human being. Yet I am worried about Luke. Explain this to me.”  
  
“I’m afraid I can’t,” Sarah Jane said.   
  
“If you will deactivate me, I would like to spend the next twelve hours assimilating the nuances of my primary function. You will be unable to reactivate me during my assimilation. Are you likely to need me during this time?”   
  
“No. Thank you, Mr. Smith.”   
  
“You are welcome, Sarah Jane,” Mr. Smith said, and closed himself down.   
  
Sarah Jane took a deep breath and went downstairs. Her visit with Mr. Smith had not reassured her. She was worried about Luke too.   
  
She knocked gently on his bedroom door. Luke did not tell her to come in, but she heard something. “Luke?” she asked, and she opened the door a small bit.   
  
Luke hadn’t dressed for night yet. He hadn’t gotten the chance, as he still had one shoe on. He was sitting in the middle of his bed, his hands held to his temples as if he was trying to squeeze his skull together. The look on his face was one of absolute agony.   
  
“Luke!” Sarah Jane ran to his bed.   
  
“I’m — fine,” Luke said through clenched teeth. “It’s just — my head.”   
  
Sarah Jane stood up. “I’m going to call a doctor.”   
  
“Don’t!” Luke cried. Sarah Jane turned back. “They can’t help,” Luke said, making an effort to keep his voice even. He was still gasping. “No one can help.”   
  
Sarah Jane didn’t blame Luke for not wanting to see a doctor. He wasn’t normal, and if anyone scanned his brain they’d see that. It would result in fame he didn’t want and scientific scrutiny that could break him. Between Sarah Jane, Mr. Smith and a few medical textbooks, they had already decided they could keep Luke out of the hospital for anything short of major surgery. But he looked in so much pain! Aspirin was clearly not going to cut it for this. “I can call some friends at UNIT,” Sarah Jane said. “Get a prescription for something.”   
  
Luke started to shake his head, grimaced, and forced out the word, “No.” He panted a few times and then said, “It’s not pain. Not as — oh!” He grunted and gasped. “Not as you know it,” he said. And to Sarah Jane’s horror, he started to cry.   
  
Sarah found herself beside him on the bed. She pulled him to her. He shuddered, but it did seem to calm him. He finally let go of his temples. “What is it?” Sarah Jane asked quietly, rocking him gently. “What’s wrong? Do you know?”   
  
“It’s an inter-neural feedback of brainwave integration from telepsychic overload,” Luke said. He grunted in pain again — if this wasn’t pain of some kind, Sarah Jane knew no better word for it! — and his hands clenched into fists. “It’s been getting worse all evening. My mind is trying to collapse in on itself.”   
  
Blast Mr. Smith into the outer stratosphere! This was his doing, and that wretched telekinetic machine forcing Luke to draw the moon down to the Earth. There were tidal waves and earthquakes all over the planet, and tsunamis that were devastating entire island nations, and there wasn’t anything Sarah Jane could do to reverse the destruction. It was tragic. But Sarah Jane didn’t care. All she cared about was that her Luke was hurting, and it was all Mr. Smith’s fault. And he’d known. He’d known what it would do to Luke — that was why his residual memory was worried about him. If she thought it would do any good she’d go and take a sledge hammer to that crystalize machine right now. Except that as of now, Mr. Smith was a useful ally, and that would be cutting off her nose to spite her face.  
  
“Is there anything I can do?” Sarah asked.   
  
“No,” Luke whispered. It sounded utterly hopeless.   
  
Sarah Jane swallowed. “I can stay with you,” she said.   
  
“It can’t help. It’ll only hurt you.”   
  
“You’re my son, Luke. Don’t send me away when you need someone.”   
  
Luke sobbed and squeezed her. “Thank you,” he whispered.   
  
“For what?”   
  
“For being my mum.”   
  
Sarah Jane sighed. “You shouldn’t have to go through this alone.”   
  
“I’m always alone,” Luke’s voice was so bleak it sounded like death. “I’ll always be alone. There’s no one on the planet like me. The universe, maybe. I was never supposed to exist.”   
  
“I didn’t know you thought that,” Sarah Jane said. “It’s not true. Not in the least. That that is, is. You are, Luke. That means you were supposed to be.”   
  
“But I was made to be dismantled.”   
  
“When I was a girl, girls were made to marry and be docile,” Sarah Jane said. “So much for what we were made for.”   
  
Luke smiled, but it was instantly subsumed by another painful shudder.   
  
“What’s happening, Luke? Can you describe it?”  
  
Luke shook his head. His face was crumpled in pain. “All these... different parts of me... are usually integrated perfectly,” Luke said. “I shook everything up too much. The world is suffering earthquakes. So’re my brainwaves.” He grunted and squeezed Sarah Jane very tightly. “It’s crazy, you know,” he whimpered. “It’s like being crazy. I get flashes of memories sometimes. All these people I’m made up of. Did I ever tell you that?”  
  
“No.”   
  
“Most of them are really mundane,” he said. “But some of them are so terrifying. And none of them make any sense at all.” He shuddered again. “They’re all coming at me right now. It’s like being stuck in front of a flip book. Flashes and flashes of different people’s lives. I can’t sort any of it out.”   
  
“Can you tell me what you’re seeing?”   
  
“It’s not seeing, it’s remembering.”   
  
“Still,” Sarah Jane said. “Try and tell me some of it.”   
  
“Why?”   
  
“You’re trying to sort yourself out,” Sarah Jane said. “It’s easier to sort out a mess if you can see the pieces as individuals, rather than as a whole. Words are a good way to sort out memories.”   
  
Luke took a deep breath. “There’s a schoolteacher from Ealing,” he whispered. “He loves cornflakes, but they hurt his teeth. An American visiting his cousin. He thinks London is boring. Two girls. Twins. They hate each other. Someone lost his bike. A boy wants to get an earring — his mom hates it. A ten year old girl. Her hair is black. Her father hurts her in the basement, and she’s not supposed to tell.” Sarah Jane gasped, but she held him fast. He was trembling all through. “Need to study for A-levels. Shouldn’t be out. I need a pizza. Stole a gun — gonna get him. I don’t wanna be gay— Dad’ll hate me. Where’s his sister? He can’t find her.”   
  
Luke kept muttering. Some of what he said made some kind of sense. Most of it was completely disjointed. Some of what he was remembering was so horrific that Sarah Jane cringed. But it was the sheer number of disconnected memories that finally started her crying. She had lost count somewhere in the seven hundreds. She had never fully realized what a burden ten thousand human minds could be to a single brain.   
  
“I want a puppy,” Luke muttered. “God, I hate math class. Look at that stupid shirt. Got to find out what’s going on here — ah! Ah!” Luke screamed and cringed in on himself.   
  
“Luke!” Sarah Jane tried to make him look at her. He looked, if anything, worse than before. His eyes were distant and could barely focus on her. “Luke, look at me.”   
  
“They killed him,” Luke said, gasping. “They killed him, the Bane, right as he was scanned.” He started crying again. “It’s all my fault!”   
  
“Shh, Luke, it was not your fault! You have to believe that.”   
  
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry. People are dying all around the world right now, and it’s all me.”   
  
“Shh, it wasn’t you,” Sarah Jane said. “It was Mr. Smith.”   
  
“He couldn’t have done it without me,” Luke said. “I put out the sun, and people die. I draw down the moon and people die. I am born and people die. What am I?”   
  
“You’re Luke Smith. You are my son.”   
  
“I’m a monster!” Luke sobbed. “I should let this kill me.”   
  
Sarah Jane trembled. “Luke?” she whispered. “Could it?”   
  
Luke shook his head. “I don’t know,” he whispered back. “I want it to.”   
  
“Stop that!”   
  
Luke pulled away from her and took hold of his temples again. With his face crumpled in sheer agony he whimpered, “Mum — it hurts!”   
  
Sarah Jane took hold of him. “Luke, look at me. Look at me.” Sarah Jane had never felt worse in her life. There was nothing she could do for Luke apart from be there for him, and that seemed about as useful as a straw to a drowning man.   
  
Luke stared at her, his eyes wide and terrified. “Mum, I’m scared. I can’t — Mum. Mum!” He shuddered again, and his eyes rolled back in his head.   
  
“Luke!”   
  
Luke gasped and then collapsed, twitching like an epileptic. Sarah Jane stretched him out, making sure he wouldn’t swallow his tongue. After a few minutes, he stopped convulsing with a sudden jerk. “Oh, God, please no.” Sarah Jane was terrified that he was dying. She checked his vitals. He was breathing evenly, but his pulse was racing.   
  
“Luke.” She shook him slightly. There was no response. “Luke!” His face was still as death. She took a deep breath. She had never felt so terrified. She suddenly realized that her life — her life! — was lying on this bed with his mind torn to ribbons, and there was nothing she could do about it. She took a deep breath. “Luke, I don’t know if you can hear me, but don’t you dare do this. You have got to stay here, do you hear me? You’re my son. I love you. I need you.” She sniffed back her tears.   
  
Luke hated himself. She had never realized before how he thought about himself. She’d known he felt isolated and unpleasantly unique. He hated making mistakes — and he was right, when he did, they tended to be big ones. But she’d never realized he thought of himself as a monster before. He was so intelligent she knew it was possible for him to decide to stop his heart, and do it. She knew the Doctor could do that. Hell, she’d known lamas in the east who could do that, without any alien technology augmenting their cerebral functions. If Luke decided he wanted this to kill him — it could.   
  
There had to be something. Something she could do or say that would keep him here, keep him attached to this body, keep him with her. And she didn’t care anymore that she didn’t know how to show how she felt, or what to say, and didn’t want to embarrass him, or herself. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore but this wisp of life that was still here beside her, and that she had to keep.   
  
“Do you know what I was before I had you in my life?” she told him. “I was stone. I was shielded by stone even before I met the Doctor. Maybe it was that stone that attracted him to me, I don’t know. He liked unique people, and I was that. But after he left me behind I became stone all through me. Nothing could touch me. There was nothing inside me to touch. Even when he came back, all I saw was how he didn’t belong to me anymore. I had good ideals, and general compassion, but I had a heart of stone. I belonged to no one, and no one belonged to me.” She touched Luke’s still face, trying to massage life back into those sallow cheeks.   
  
“But you. You did the impossible, Luke. You brought me to life. I was regenerated. I became part of something I didn’t think I could ever be. A family. And when I lost you, when I thought I had to give you up, I died again. I hated myself for letting myself care for anyone, anyone at all, because they all leave me in the end. My parents abandoned me. Aunt Lavinia abandoned me to boarding school at age eight. The Doctor dematerialized away and never came back, not for me. I spent all my life shutting people out. But you came to me, like a gift. You made me human again. You reached out and reached through me and stared at me with those impossible eyes of yours and turned this stone into flesh and blood.” She squeezed his hand so hard she heard the bones grate against each other, but she didn’t care. “You are my flesh and blood, Luke! Don’t you DARE let this beat you!”   
  
There was no response from his still form. Sarah Jane broke and cradled him to her, collapsing onto the bed and holding him close, knowing, in her heart, that this was the last time she could ever hug him. She hadn’t hugged him enough. Hadn’t told him how much she loved him. Hadn’t reached out. Her heart had died when Luke was taken from her. She wasn’t sure how she would survive if he died here, now. So young. So very, very young.   
  
“I love you,” she whispered into his hair.   
  
“I love you too, Mum,” Luke whispered from within the circle of her arms.   
  
Sarah Jane started and pulled away, staring at him.   
  
His deep, strong eyes stared back at her from shadowed lids. “Sorry if I frightened you,” he said. He sounded weak, but no longer tortured. He swallowed. “I couldn’t move. I had to turn off my motor functions to put everything back.”   
  
Sarah Jane trembled. “You’re back together?” she whispered. “Is it over?”  
  
“I think so,” Luke said. “I feel integrated, anyway. More like myself.” He shook his head. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”   
  
Sarah Jane started to cry again, tears of absolute relief. Her head sank onto his chest, half laughing, half sobbing. His hand reached up to touch her hair. “Thank you for staying with me. I was scared.”   
  
“So was I,” Sarah Jane whispered. “I thought you...” But she didn’t finish the thought.   
  
“I’d never abandon you, Mum,” he said. “You know that? No more than you would me.” She looked up at him. “You know while I was gone, all I wanted to do was go home to you,” he said. “No one else in the world could be my mum. Even if I never saw you again.” He smiled at her very gently. “You’re my flesh and blood, too.”   
  
Sarah Jane sighed and dried her face. “Don’t ever scare me like that again,” she breathed.   
  
“I won’t,” Luke said. He bit his lip. “Mum?”   
  
Sarah Jane swallowed.   
  
“Could we make some hot chocolate?”   
  
Sarah Jane laughed with relief. “Yeah,” she said. “Absolutely.” 


End file.
